


John Wayne

by Shota_Killers



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 30 day challenge, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:39:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shota_Killers/pseuds/Shota_Killers
Summary: Moments from Daryl and Glenn'a life from the beginning of the apocalypse.





	1. Power Lines

"Remind me 'gain why I let you navigate?" Daryl Dixon grumbled from a few feet behind his boyfriend.

  
Glenn Rhee grinned over his shoulder, before returning to studying his map. "Because you love me and want me to be able to navigate on my own?" he asked, not really sure if even he knew the answer to the question.

  
It was a scorching Georgia summer day. One of the hottest of the year so far, so Daryl assumed the months must be stretching into August. He honestly quit keeping track of the days a while ago. That was more Glenn's forte.

  
They continued their trek in silence for a few moments. Glenn continued to stare at the map and compass, adjusting their direction or doubling back entirely. Daryl stood as their lookout, keeping an ear cocked and a watchful eye on their surroundings. It would be just like his boyfriend to blunder around, completely unaware of the world around him, and barrel straight into a walker, getting himself bit.

  
The thought of it made Daryl shiver, and he began walking closer behind Glenn. "Just warnin' ya, sunshine," Daryl said softly, "I might have ta take over soon if we want to make it to the quarry before nightfall."

  
"Have faith," Glenn chided, before drastically adjusting the direction he was walking in.

  
Daryl had to resist the groan building up. They had gone in a complete circle...twice. Glenn maybe a genius at navigating Atlanta, but boy did he suck at getting around the woods. It made Daryl wish he had taught Glenn how to do this before the world went to shit.

  
"All we gotta do is get ta the power lines, then we can follow them all the way ta the quarry," Daryl reminded his boyfriend, walking up and looking over Glenn's shoulder at the map.

  
Glenn had come to a dead stop, starring frustratedly at the map in front of him. "I don't understand!" he whined. "We've been at this for over an hour! How can't I find stupid power lines?"

  
Holding back a grin, Daryl softly slipped the compass and map from Glenn's hands, tucking them into Glenn's backpack, before taking his boyfriend by the shoulders. He rotated Glenn until he was spun a few inches to the left. "Walk straight," he instructed.

  
Glenn fixed him with a irritated look. "I swear to god..." he muttered bitterly, before stomping off.

  
Daryl let out a chuckle, before trailing behind Glenn. When the marksman caught up with his steaming boyfriend, the young man was glaring up at the now dead power lines. Glenn's arms were crossed over his chest, and his brows were knitted together in thought. The younger man was tapping his foot impatiently, and Daryl leaned against a nearby tree to watch him.

  
After a few minutes of Glenn staring at the power lines, he turned around with and sigh and walked in to Daryl's welcoming arms. The redneck looped his arms around Glenn's waist, as the young man buried his face in Daryl's chest. "I don't understand," came Glenn's muffled moan. "Why am I so bad at this?"

  
Daryl kissed the top of Glenn's head softly, before resting his chin on the same spot. "My ma always said that couples were meant ta compliment each other," he said quietly, Glenn basked in the vibrations of Daryl's voice. "So maybe when one person ain't very good at somethin', the other person'll be able to make up for it. Sometimes they might both suck at somethin', or both be good at it.

  
"It's like, you're better at rememberin' names and dates, or makin' sure people are happy. I'm more ruff and tumble. Rather be out huntin' than having family dinner. We push each other to go outta our comfort zones."

  
Glenn pulled back slightly to grin up at his boyfriend. "You always know just what to say," he said cheerily.

  
Daryl smirked at him, before swooping in to steal a kiss. "Damn right, I do," he murmured. "Now come on, let's get back."


	2. Doll

Glenn couldn't necessarily pin point the exact moment Daryl started using the nickname. It was a shame, because it was such a cute thing for a tough guy like Daryl to decide on. Perhaps it didn't matter when it exactly began, just that it was happening in the first place. Glenn always did have problems living in the moment.

"Hey, doll," Daryl's rough drawl called from outside of their tent. "Can ya bring me some wax for my bow?"

It was a cute nickname, Glenn had decided, and he enjoyed it. Maybe most people would think it made Glenn seem weak or easily breakable, but Glenn loved it nonetheless. It was something special, shared between he and Daryl.

Glenn grabbed the wax out of Daryl's pack, before ducking out of the tent and walking over to sit beside his boyfriend. Daryl pressed a soft kiss to Glenn's cheek, before taking the wax and beginning to tend to his bow. Watching Daryl work quickly, yet precisely, Glenn found himself dozing off in the summer heat.

"Gettin' sleepy over there, doll?" Daryl chuckled, setting his crossbow down and wrapping an arm around Glenn's shoulders. "Might be time for you to take yourself a siesta."

Grinning like a moron, Glenn shook his head and rested it on Daryl's shoulder. "It's this heat," he murmured. "I feel exhausted all of the time, and of course it doesn't go away at night, so I am not getting any sleep."

Daryl jabbed the thumb of his free hand behind them. "I blame that damn tent," he grumbled. "Makes it so stuffy overnight. Feels like your gonna suffocate in there."

After a comfortable silence, Glenn watching heat waves roll off the quarry ground, and Daryl closing his eyes and drawing patterns on Glenn's shoulder with his thumb, the redneck opened his eyes and straightened up. "We otta build ourselves a hammock," he said, looking around themselves for an appropriate place to hang one. "Then we can sleep outside and don't have ta sleep in the tent."

Glenn shook his head. "Kinda risky, isn't it?" he asked. "We're kind of off on our own over here. A walker could easily sneak up on us in our sleep and make a midnight snack out of one of us."

"Could set up some alarms using tin can or somethin'," Daryl replied, climbing to his feet to look for the correct supplies to string up a hammock. "Hang cans around our little set up we've got goin'. Protect us against walkers and a person not payin' attention."

Nodding along with the idea, Glenn set to work helping Daryl string up a hammock from one of their old blankets. Once it was securely stringed between two large oak trees, they began tying cans to some rope. Glenn set to work walking around camp, asking anyone for left over cans or sardine tins. When the ones he had gathered were thoroughly washed out in the lake, Glenn and Daryl worked together to tie them to the rope, and then hang them around their camp.

Standing back to admire their work, Daryl nodded in approval. "Looks damn good, doll," he complimented. "This'll be a shit ton better than the tent."

Glenn beamed before pulling Daryl into a loving embrace. They stood like that for a moment, before Glenn asked, "Why do you call me that?"

Daryl tensed in his arms, before mumbling, "I can stop."

Pulling back to look up at his redneck, Glenn shook his head quickly. "No, no! I like it, love it, even. I was just wondering... where it came from. I can't even remember the first time you called me it."

Daryl thought long and hard for a minute, before replying, "Can't say I remember when it started. I can say, however, I call you that because you're like a doll. You're perfect to me. Granted you aren't delicate or breakable, but you're my doll. Absolutely perfect in every way shape and form. I would never want to change a thing about you."

Glenn's heart swelled as he pulled Daryl into a chaste kiss. Pulling apart, the younger man whispered, "I love you too, my perfect redneck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2: Pet names
> 
> Sorry this is a little late! I was busy watching the Cubs win after 108 years! Congrats to the Cubbies!


	3. Scrapes and Bruises

Glenn's entire left side burned from the scrapes covering it. He and Daryl had been on a run, when they got jumped by a group of walkers. Glenn had taken a nasty fall down a flight of stairs, when his shirt hiked up as he hit the bottom and tore up his side on the concrete. The side of his left hand and his cheek had taken a painful beating as well.

After Daryl had dashed down the stairs and hauled him up, they rushed to the nearest door of the warehouse they were in. Of course it was blocked off by a chair from the outside. In a desperate attempt, Daryl had smashed the small window on the door, and just barely managed to shove the chair out of the way. The act had cut his arm on the broken glass. Nothing life threatening, but it managed to give Glenn a heart attack.

When they had gotten outside, Daryl slammed the door back and they made their way to the car. Daryl had to assist Glenn, as, during the fall down the stairs, he had hurt his ankle. Once they were securely in the car, Daryl assessed his arm.

"Damn window," the redneck grumbled, pulling out a bandana to wrap around his arm.

Glenn watched him, feeling guilty. It had been his idea to go in the warehouse. Daryl hadn't wanted to go, and now he was hurt because of Glenn. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I should have listened."

Daryl sighed and shook his head. "Don't go blamin' yourself, doll," he murmured, turning on the car and pulling out onto the road to head back towards the farm. "How were you to know there were a buncha walkers crawlin' around in there?"

"You told me it was a bad idea!" Glenn cried. "You told me we shouldn't risk it! Now I've gone a hurt my ankle, and you've torn your arm up!"

Shaking his head, Daryl ran a hand down his face. "It's alright, Glenn," he murmured. "You're overreacting."

"No I'm not!" Glenn argued, slamming his fist down on the center console. "Quit treating this like it's nothing!"

How could Daryl be so nonchalant about this? They both could have died! There was no other quick way out of the building! What if Daryl hadn't gotten the door open? What if they wasted time trying to get the door open and one of them go bit in the process? Glenn couldn't stomach the guilt.

"You're overreacting," Daryl repeated, stating straight ahead at the road. "Take a breather and calm down before you say somethin' ya regret."

Glenn inhaled deeply. Daryl was right. He was always right, wasn't he? They were fine. A little beat up but still kicking. They were going to be okay.  
\---  
When they got home to the farm, Daryl immediately pulled Glenn towards their set up away from the rest of the group. He ignored the groups concerned calls, uninterested in their questions. "Shit's in the car!" he called over his shoulder. "Ain't much, but it'll get us through a few more weeks! Now leave us be!"

Once they reached the tent, Daryl sat Glenn down on an over turned log with a grumbled, "Stay put a sec," before ducking into the tent.

Glenn turned to look out onto the horizon, admiring the setting sun. One thing was for certain, it was beautiful here. He could get used to views like this every evening.

Daryl appeared back again, his small medical kit in hand. "Lemme see whatcha've done to yourself," he murmured, tugging at the hem of Glenn's shirt.

Once they managed to gingerly remove the shirt and set it aside, Daryl examined the deep scrapes and scratches all along Glenn's side. His expression was unreadable. Glenn could only guess what his boyfriend was thinking.

Without warning, Daryl rose slightly to press and searing kiss to Glenn's lips. He pulled him in close and tight, as if he was afraid to let go. However, just as soon as it started, it ended. "Never scare me like that 'gain," Daryl murmured as he ran a thumb over Glenn's unmarred cheek. "So afraid you'd hit your head and I would lose you."

Glenn smiled sadly and rested his hand on top of Daryl's. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I promise I'm going to be more careful."

"Be sure ya do," Daryl replied, before opening up his kit and pulling out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some bandages. Wetting a clean rag with the alcohol, Daryl gave Glenn an apologetic look. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

Not giving Glenn a chance to respond, Daryl lightly pressed the rag to Glenn's side. The younger man let out a sob of pain and grabbed Daryl's shoulders. "Oh, god!" he cried. "Daryl please!"

Daryl nodded in understanding as he quickly disinfected and cleaned the wounds away of any dirt or blood. "I know, doll," he said in an attempt to soothe his love. "It hurts, I know."

Apparently having brushed against a very bad cut, Glenn let out another scream of pain and tightened his grip. "Shit! Oh shit!" he cried.

"It's okay," Daryl said softly, pulling the bloodied rag away. "It's okay. I've got the worst part of it over with. The rest will be easy."

Glenn was trembling in pain, and Daryl's heart ached to see him in such a state. "Don't fucking lie," Glenn muttered.

After wrapping Glenn's torso in bandages, Daryl rose again to press a kiss to Glenn's forehead. "I'm still gonna have to do your arm and face. They shouldn't need to be bandaged though."

Letting out a sarcastic "hurrah" as Daryl readied another rag, Glenn held out his left arm and gripped the log with his spare hand. Before pressing the rag down, Daryl pressed a comforting kiss to the inside of Glenn's wrist. When he did begin to clean, Daryl made sure to make quick work of it.

Throughout the process, Glenn let out more screams and curses of pain. By the end, Daryl noticed tears pooling in Glenn's eyes. It occurred to Daryl, Glenn wasn't used to this kind of pain. He had never had to go through this kind of agony before.

Leaning in to press another soft kiss to Glenn's lips, Daryl felt a surge of protection. "I'm sorry," he whispered on Glenn's lips.

Glenn nodded softly, blinking away the tears in his eyes. "It's okay," he said, his voice hoarse. "My own fault. Now... lemme take care of your arm. It's gonna get infected."

Daryl sighed and plopped down on the ground, Glenn following gingerly after him. Once the bandana was unwrapped from Daryl's arm, Glenn couldn't help but cringe. The cuts were red and irritated, a few clearly already infected. Glenn carefully leaned over to grab the medical kit, pulling out another rag and some antibiotics.

"Take this, it'll fight the infection," Glenn murmured, handing Daryl a pill.

As Daryl took the medicine, Glenn readied a rag. His hands shook at the prospect of putting Daryl through a potentially worse pain than he had just been through himself. How could he live with himself if he put Daryl in pain.

Sighing, and resigning himself to the fact that it had to be done, Glenn carefully began cleaning away the blood and disinfecting the wounds. Much to Glenn's surprise, Daryl didn't even so much as flinch. The redneck just watched as Glenn worked quickly and quietly.

"Doesn't it hurt?" Glenn finally asked, looking up to meet Daryl's warm gaze.

The older man shrugged. "Guess so," he replied. "Merle and I were never careful kids. Always gettin' cuts and scrapes and such. After a while, it stops hurtin'. Breakin' bones though? That's a bitch."

Glenn giggled and Daryl gave him a lopsided grin. After Glenn finished, and decided none of the cuts would need stitches, he wrapped Daryl's arm. "You should be better in a few days," Glenn said happily. "Just go easy on it."

Daryl nodded, before carefully pulling Glenn into his lap, being careful of the younger man's side. "Thank ya, doll," he drawled, pressing kisses along the side of Glenn's neck. "Tis mighty kind of ya to tend to me."

The younger man couldn't help the hysterical laughter at the use of Daryl's over exaggerated accent. "You're such a nerd," Glenn laughed turning his head to press a kiss to Daryl's cheek.

"Says the nerd," Daryl retorted.

"Yeah, but I'm your nerd."

Daryl beamed and stole another quick kiss. "Yes, you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Patching each other up


	4. Needle and Thread

"I have never condoned the eating of horses," Glenn mumbled from the sofa in the Greene living room, "but that damn horse is on the chopping block now."

Hershel shot Glenn an annoyed look, before going through his medical case. "Mind your mouth, son," he chastised.

Daryl snorted and tightened his grip on Glenn's hand. The redneck was sat on the floor beside the younger man, watching him with a concerned gaze. He had been trying to teach Glenn how to ride horseback, it would just be their luck that Daryl would pick the horse named "Nervous Nellie".

They had been walking through the field, Glenn on Nellie's back, and Daryl walking along side, holding the reigns. Out of nowhere, a rattle snake had lashed out at Nellie from under a rock. Nellie had reared back in panic, sending Glenn flying, before coming back down, crushing the snake, and galloping back to the stables.

Daryl was convinced he would never get the heart stopping sight of Glenn flying through the air, or the sick crack of Glenn hitting his head on a rock, out of his head. He felt like he was going to vomit when he ran to Glenn, only to find him unresponsive and losing blood fast. Despite always being told not to, Daryl had scooped Glenn up and booked it to the house. He knew it wasn't safe to move someone who had just been seriously injured, but he had no choice. Glenn could have died.

It wasn't long, after Daryl had laid Glenn on the couch, that Glenn roused from his unconscious state. Hershel was quick to inform them that Glenn had a concussion, and Glenn was best to stay in the house for the next few days. After Glenn was patched up and ready to be moved, he would be staying in the guest bedroom.

"There won't be any way for me to check for internal or brain damage," Hershel said with a sigh. "We'll just have to keep you under close supervision for the next few days. Although, I gather, you're gonna be just fine. You'll need a few stitches, but that should be the worst of it."

Feeling the world being lifted off his shoulders, Daryl grinned and pressed a quick kiss to Glenn's cheek. He stroked the back of Glenn's hand with is thumb, and the younger man gave him a soft smile. Daryl couldn't believe he almost lost such a ray of sunshine.

Hershel cleared his throat and pulled a chair near where he would have to out the stitches in. As he prepared the needle and thread, the old veterinarian murmured, "I was unaware of your... relationship."

Daryl felt Glenn tense. True, he and Glenn never went around loudly announcing there relationship. They both were quite private people, and neither were interested in PDA. Once people found out, they never had much to say on the matter. The only person who had loudly dejected their relationship was Merle, but he was a racist homophobe anyway.

"I hope you two didn't feel the need to keep it a secret because of my family's faith," Hershel continued. "We would never say a cruel word to either of you. God loves all of his children, as such, my family will love you just the same. Daryl, I extend the invitation, to stay in the guest room, to you as well."

A soft smile grew across Glenn's face. "Thank you, Mr. Greene," he murmured, before sucking in a breath as Hershel began stitching the gash in Glenn's head.

The grip on Daryl's hand tightened to bone crushing strength. Daryl let out a startled sound, but didn't make any move to pull away. "It's gonna be alright, doll," the redneck said, voice strained.

Guilt passed over Glenn's face. "I'm crushing your hand, aren't I?" he asked.

Daryl shook his head, biting his lower lip briefly. "Naw. Never."

Glenn let out a breathy laugh. "You're a really horrible lier, Daryl Dixon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hospital visits


	5. The Survivor

"Take your shirt off."

Daryl whirled around and gave Glenn a bewildered look. They were both sat outside their tent, Daryl cleaning his knives, and Glenn cooking some beans over the fire in front of them. Between the fire and the sweltering Georgia summer heat, the air around them was well over a hundred degrees, and Daryl was drenched in sweat. Glenn had long since stripped his shirt and shoes, vouching to sit in just a pair of shorts.

"Why would I wanna do that?" Daryl asked, returning to cleaning the dried blood of a machete.

Glenn snorted and shook his head. "It's baking, Daryl!" he cried. "Yet there you are in a shirt, jeans, and boots! I'm pretty sure we could solve our water problem with how much your sweating."

The redneck shook his head. "M'fine," he mumbled. "Lil bit of heat never hurt nobody."

"No but our best hunter getting heat stroke when we are dealing with a food shortage would be less than ideal," Glenn muttered, turning back to stirring the beans.

Lima beans. Hoorah. The group had been low on food for a while. Any nearby sources had been practically picked clean. Glenn had only managed to get his hands on dried beans, rice, and stale cereal during his last run. Hunting had been incredibly scarce. Most days Daryl had only managed to bag a squirrel and maybe some frogs. Glenn blamed this damn drought.

Daryl shrugged. "It's not that hot."

Rolling his eyes, Glenn pulled the lima beans off the heat and shuffled over to tug at Daryl's shirt. "Come on, take it off," he coaxed, before Daryl shoved at his hands at gave him a glare. Glenn dropped his hands in his lap and gave Daryl a hurt look. "This is about your scars again, isn't it?" Not receiving even an acknowledgement that he had spoken, Glenn continued, "We talked about this. You know you can trust me."

"Ain't you I'm worried about," Daryl muttered.

Glenn gave Daryl a hurt look. "Is that true though?" he asked. "We're out here all on our own. You would see someone coming from a mile away. Sounds to me that you don't-"

Daryl whirled around and fixed Glenn with an unreadable look. "Don't say it," he blurted out.

"You don't trust-"

He was suddenly hit smack in the face was a very sweaty shirt. It had hit with a nauseating, wet slap. Glenn gagged as he tossed Daryl's shirt away from him and gave his boyfriend an annoyed look.

The redneck had turned back around to continue cleaning knives. "There," he grumbled. "Ya happy now? Have I appeased you for the moment?"

"Okay, one, that was very, very rude," Glenn replied, wiping sweat off his face, "not to mention fucking disgusting. And two, I am watching out for your health, so quit being a big baby."

Daryl made no indication that he had any plans of responding. Glenn let out a sigh, before going back to cooking beans. This was just like Daryl. So stereotypically him to suddenly not trust Glenn, then shut Glenn out when he tried to care for Daryl.

His boyfriend's scars didn't bother him. In fact, he found them something to be admired. They showed what a survivor Daryl was. That even through all of the shit he had been through, he was still strong. The fact that, after all this time, Daryl still didn't trust him, well, it hurt.

How could Glenn show his boyfriend that his scars were nothing to be ashamed of? That they didn't mean he was broken or someone to pity? All Glenn could see was a strong, experienced man. Someone who has grown and learned.

Glenn set down the beans again and shuffled back over to his boyfriend. Running his hands up and down Daryl's tense arms, Glenn leaned in and pressed a feather light kiss to one of Daryl's scars. And then he kissed another. And another.

"They're nothing to be ashamed of," Glenn whispered. A kiss. "They don't make you weak." A kiss. "Nor do they bring you pity." A kiss. "No one is judging you or cowering from you." A kiss. "They make you strong." A kiss. "They make you brave." A kiss.

"They." Kiss. "Make." Kiss. "You." Kiss. "A." Kiss. "Survivor."

When he still received no response, Glenn sat back on his haunches with a sigh and went back to his cooking. Daryl hadn't moved an inch. They sat in an agonizing silence. Glenn suddenly wished he had just dropped it.

In one last ditch attempt, Glenn murmured, "I love you, Daryl. Everyone in our group loves you, even if they don't say it. If you won't trust the others, I guess I should expect that, but me? That cuts deep.

"Even when you and I make progress, we always seem to revert back to how it was originally. Like our solutions are always temporary. You have to learn to open up to me, Daryl. I don't know how much more I can take."

After a few more minutes of silence, of Glenn cooking and Daryl not moving, the redneck finally turned around, face expressionless. "Never told ya how I got most of 'em, have I?" he asked, watching Glenn cook.

Glenn shook his head. "Never thought you would," he answered honestly, "so I never bothered to ask."

Daryl worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, before continuing, "I realized I was playin' for the other team when I was sixteen. Never told my pa. Didn't want to make him mad. 'Course he found out anyway."

The beans were finished, so Glenn put them down to give Daryl his undivided attention. "I had been screwin' a choir boy from the church down the street for a couple of weeks," Daryl explained. "He was always so skittish. Goin' on about how we were gonna get caught. I always told him he was crazy. As luck would have it though, my pa caught us one day.

"I had taken choir boy down to the lake one day in my truck. We were makin' out, and I was jerkin' him off, in the truck, when my pa pulled up right along side us. I had no damn clue he was goin' fishing with his poker buddy that day."

Daryl let out a shiver as he stared at the ground in front of him. "Second my pa realized what was goin' on, he yanked my ass outta my truck and threw me full force on the ground. Asked his poker buddy, 'Whatcha think my faggot of a boy deserves to remind him not to pull another stunt like this?' The answer? Thirty lashes."

"He made me count every single one. Whipped me with his belt for what felt like hours. I was bleeding so bad I was prayin' to the Lord to kill me. My boyfriend sat there and sobbed. Beggin' my pa to stop. Beggin' my pa not to tell anyone."

Sighing, Daryl turned to look at Glenn. His eyes were somehow cold and void of any emotion. "They never did tell anyone. I never saw my boyfriend again. Merle patched me up when he got home that night. Almost every lash scarred though. Pa never brought it up, guess he knew he wouldn't have to."

Tears streamed down Glenn's cheeks and he reached over to pull Daryl into a hug. "I'm so s-sorry," he sniffled into Daryl's neck. "If I had known-"

"But ya didn't," Daryl stopped him, looping his arms around Glenn's waist. "You were just lookin' out for me. You're right though. 'Bout you and the others. I gotta start trustin' ya'll more."

Glenn pulled back to press a chaste kiss to Daryl's lips. "Thank you for telling me. I think I understand now."

Daryl nodded softly. "Maybe now with you knowin' the truth, I can try movin' on."

A soft smile grew across Glenn's face. "We'll try our damnedest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Scar worship
> 
> Maybe not necessarily "worship", but it had something to do with scars. I wasn't 100% for certain what the prompt meant by "scar worship", so I didn't my best.


	6. Cinderella and The Cow

_Smack. Smack. Smack. Swallow. Grunt. Smack. Smack. Smack. Swallow._

"Hey, Daryl," Glenn said in the sickeningly sweet way that he only does when he is annoyed.

Daryl looked over the campfire at his boyfriend. They were sat at their own tent, having dinner alone for the night. Dinner was great. Andrea and Shane had managed to bag a dozen fish at a nearby creek. Tonight, the group ate like kings.

Glenn gave Daryl a strained smile. "I love you," he said, "I really, really love you. So I have to let you know, you sound like a cow chewing cud right now."

The redneck let out a soft snort, and around a mouthful of fish and peas said, "Alrighty. You go back to eatin' your food all proper like with your knife and fork there, Cinderella."

A bark of laughter escaped Glenn as he shook his head in disbelief. "Never thought I would have my own personal Beverly Hillbilly to call my boyfriend."

Daryl laughed along as well, continuing to loudly eat his dinner. It had been a while since he had properly laughed. They had always been so stressed, either from the food shortage, or constantly watching their backs. He forgot how nice it was to just let go every once and a while.

"Well you snore," Daryl gave as a childish comeback. It was weak, and he knew it. Merle would be so ashamed of him.

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I snore?" he asked. "I'm sorry, who was it that _woke himself up_ yesterday morning?"

Narrowing his eyes, Daryl mumbled, "Didn't do no such thing."

The younger man let out a cackle as he threw his head back. "Like hell you didn't!" he laughed. "You thought we were being attacked by a walker."

"Did not."

"For god sakes Daryl, you went for your crossbow!"

"Lies."

"I nearly shit myself, you scared me so bad!"

Daryl shook his head, a shit eating grin on his face. They carried on eating their dinner, the occasional laugh escaping one of them. This felt good, great even. A full belly, laughter, and being with the one person he loved most in the world? Daryl was on cloud nine. The only thing that would make this better would be some booze.

"At least I don't take up the entire bed," Daryl mumbled, taking another large bite of food.

It was Glenn's turn to narrow his eyes. "I don't know where you would get such a preposterous lie, Mr. Dixon," he said quietly.

"Yer like a starfish," Daryl laughed. "Practically layin' on top of me. Not gonna lie, sometimes I like it."

Glenn let out a groan and ran a hand down his face. "Ugh, you pervert," he moaned. "Can't believe I married you."

Daryl froze and fixed Glenn with a bewildered look. Glenn raised his eyebrow and gave Daryl an expecting looking, oblivious to what he had just said. Since when were they married? Well... maybe they were. They have a very strong "what's mine is your's, what's your's is mine" relationship. They are both undeniably in love and devoted to one another. Maybe it wasn't such a stretch to consider them married.

"Ya think we're married?" Daryl finally asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Glenn nodded, before turning his attention to his dinner plate. "I mean..." he mumbled, "yeah, why not? Never know what day is gonna be our last. We both love each other more than anything else in the world. Yeah, I think we should get married."

He tried to say it nonchalantly, as if to not startle Daryl. "Well, Mr. Dixon, I quite like that idea," Daryl said with a grin.

Glenn shook his head. "Nah," he chuckled, "you'd be a Mr. Daryl Rhee. Mr. Daryl Rhee and Mr. Glenn Rhee. It has such a good sound to it."

"Nope, sorry Mr. Glenn Dixon," Daryl smirked, walking around the fire to pull Glenn into his lap. "You're becomin' more of a Dixon than you think you are."

Relaxing back against Daryl, Glenn let out a drawn out sigh. "I don't care what we are, hell we could just be Mr. and Mr. Dixon-Rhee and I would be perfectly happy with that, just so long as you never let me go."

"Don't intend on it, Mr. Dixon."

"Oh shut it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Making fun of one another


	7. Something Worth Living For

Glenn gripped the steering wheel of the SUV in an iron fist. His knuckles were stark white as he held back tears. They had lost everything. Everyone was gone and they lost everything. All of their food, supplies... friends and family... Daryl...

A choked sob finally escaped Glenn. Maggie gave him an understanding look from the passenger seat. How could she be so calm? She just potentially lost her entire family, and her childhood home was gone? How can she just sit there?

"He's okay, Glenn," Maggie said softly, reaching over to rub Glenn's arm. "Daryl's strong. If anyone made it, he did."

Shaking his head and grinding the car to a screeching halt, Glenn threw the car in park and let tears stream down his cheeks. "W-When we were all getting ready to defend... D-Daryl-" Glenn's words broke off into a loud sob, before he managed to say, "Daryl said tonight was as good as any to die."

Maggie's grip tightened on Glenn's arm. "Daryl wouldn't put you through that," she said softly. "He's stupid, but he isn't that stupid. He _loves_ you, Glenn... You should let me drive."

Feeling to numb to argue, Glenn nodded softly, before climbing out of the SUV. Once they were switched around, Glenn buckled his seatbelt and pulled his knees to his chest. "Go out to the highway and head south," he mumbled. "I'll tell you when to stop."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Maggie put the car into drive and drove in the direction of the highway. Glenn felt sick to his stomach. What was he going to do if they got to the car they left for Sophia and Daryl wasn't there? Glenn wouldn't be able to live with himself if Daryl died and he ran.

"It's going to be okay, Glenn," Maggie said again. "He's tough."  
\---  
When they finally reached the car, the sun was beginning to rise. Glenn was grateful. Several times throughout the drive, Glenn was afraid he would nod off and they would pass it. He was mentally and physically exhausted. Every part of him had a dull ache.

Maggie pulled the car up and immediately jumped out. Hershel, Carl, and Rick were already there. Good for her. After almost losing everything, Maggie deserved some relief.

Glenn pulled himself from the car, still sniffling and rubbing at his eyes. He just wanted to sleep, and, if Daryl didn't turn up, potentially go down for the long nap. It was difficult for Glenn to imagine life without Daryl. Not to mention, nothing to even remember the man by, other than Glenn's own memories of him.

Rick must have taken notice of Glenn's distress, and walked over to clap him on the shoulder. "It'll be okay, Glenn," he said calmly.

There it was again. The "it's going to be okay" line of bullshit. Glenn was sick of hearing it. Maggie had repeated it like a mantra the entire drive here. He didn't need Rick fucking Grimes, the man with a horse shoe up his ass, to tell him it would be okay.

Glenn shrugged his hand off, and turned his attention to assessing the supplies in the SUV. He needed something, anything, to take his mind off Daryl. There was hardly anything in the car. A half empty box of granola bars, three bottles of water, a pack of beef jerky, and a Slim Jim. A damn Slim Jim.

"Glenn," Rick tried again, almost sounding desperate. "Listen, I understand. We've all lost people-"

Anger surged in Glenn. He whirled around and gave Rick and fiery glare. "Who have you lost!" he bellowed. "You seemingly have all the luck in the fucking world! You're family always comes back in the end! You're damn kid was shot and someone capable of saving him just happened to be nearby! You haven't lost people!"

Hershel inched hesitantly closer to Glenn. "Calm down, son," he murmured. "We don't need you shutting down on us. I've been where you are, I understand. Maggie understands."

Glenn shook his head and sank down to his knees. "If Daryl's gone," he whispered hoarsely, so softly that the others had to strain to hear him, "then consider me gone... I have nothing to live for." Glenn looked up as tears poured down his cheeks. "I refuse to be alone."

Tears pooled in Maggie's eyes as she shook her head. "You aren't alone," she murmured.

"You know what I mean."

And then he heard it. That wonderful, glorious fucking sound. A sound of hope and joy and everything Glenn loved. It was a roar. Loud and defiant against the quiet of this lost world.

A motorcycle. Daryl's motorcycle.

Glenn scrambled to his feet, almost falling to the ground in his haste. He ignored Rick's soft call to him, reminding him to not get his hopes up too high. The young man rushed around the other side of the SUV, and there it was. There he was.

Daryl pulled the motorcycle up with a deafening screech, slamming on the breaks so hard it jolted Carol, who road with him. She quickly climbed off, before Daryl let the bike fall to the ground as he rushed to Glenn. The younger man's legs turned to jelly and he collapsed in Daryl's arms.

"Oh thank god," Daryl was crying, bundling the younger man in his arms and sitting on the ground. He rocked Glenn in his lap as he murmured, "Thank the lord. Never leave my sight again."

"P-Promise," Glenn cried, burying his face in Daryl's chest. "I-I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Losing someone close


	8. Hope

Maybe, if he kept his eyes shut, they could just be laying in bed. That the bird chirping was sitting on it's eggs in a nest beside the bedroom window. The breeze was due to the open window, as it swayed the white linen curtains Glenn had insisted on. As the sun filtered in through the glass and warmed them, it was be a perfect morning.

However, there came a harsh reminder of the real world they lived in. The rough, dusty ground beneath him as their bed. Yes, a bird chirped, but only because Michonne had just turned it's eggs into breakfast. He could hear the murmur of the others discussing plans. There was a breeze because they laid out in the open.

Traveling had proven taxing on everyone. They were all hungry, sleep deprived, and on the verge of a break down. It had been a few weeks since the fall of the farm. Food was proving difficult to come by, as well as water and decent shelter. Rick had led them into the lives of Nomads, always moving and never staying anywhere much longer than a day or two.

Daryl and Glenn had attempted to hunt for something, anything, the day before. They were in the foods for what felt like hours, only to come up with nothing. Not even a damn chipmunk to their names. As the day had dragged on, Glenn had seemed more defeated on tired. Daryl would never get Glenn's words out of his head.

_"Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be easier if we all just didn't wake up one morning."_

It was haunting that someone as happy and as brave as Glenn Rhee would think such a scary thing. Daryl wasn't going to disagree with him, it probably would be easier if they all passed away in their sleep, but they couldn't just give up! They were better than that. They had to keep fighting.

Wrapping his arms tighter around Glenn, Daryl buried his face further into Glenn's back, trying to block out those words. He tried to tell himself that Glenn only said it in the heat of the moment, because he was hungry and tired. Not because he actually believed such a thing.

"Seeing them like that gives me hope," Daryl heard Carol murmur to someone from a few feet away.

"What do you mean?" he heard T-Dog reply.

Daryl heard a soft rustle of clothing, he assumed Carol shrugged. "Look at them," she replied. "They're symbolic of beating the odds. I can't imagine, before the world went to hell, it was easy for them to be together. Not to mention having to put up with Merle. I can only imagine their struggle, and yet, here they are. Hope."

T-Dog snorted. "I call it being damn lucky," he muttered, before walking off.

Huh. Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sleeping in


	9. Comfort Zone

Even after all of this time with them, Daryl didn't seem comfortable fully being himself around the group. If someone asked him something that crossed his boundaries, he would grunt and walk off, leaving Glenn to apologize for him. He could partially understand, however. Daryl certainly didn't grow up or live an easy life, at least from what Glenn had heard from Merle and Daryl himself.

It went without saying, though, Glenn had slowly grown tired of always apologizing for his... boyfriend? Husband? Glenn wasn't sure what to call them anymore. They had never made an official decision all those weeks ago, not to mention the farm falling only a short while later.

Regardless, Glenn was tired of always apologizing for him. Not to mention the guilt he felt when he couldn't give whoever he was apologizing to a proper answer. It was always a variation of, "He's pretty picky about what he tells people. Hell, even I don't know the entire story."

So it surprised Glenn, one evening, in the prison common room, when Daryl came up behind him and pulled Glenn into a warm hug. In the common room. Surrounded by the others.

It caught the eyes of people like Beth or Carol, but most people didn't pay them mind. Shit, Rick was too busy flouncing around in crazy town outside, after Lori's death, to notice much of anything. Hershel had only given Daryl a brief nod of approval, before returning to whatever it was he was doing.

After that day, the PDA (or PDH, public displays of hugging, as Glenn deemed it) was becoming more and more common. Glenn would be doing something boring, like preparing a meal or hanging and folding clean clothes, and Daryl would walk up and hug him, no matter who was around. He tried not to grow to like it too much, knowing Daryl's mood could change in an instant.

Glenn also avoided returning the gesture. He didn't want to think of Daryl's reaction if he did the same thing. It could piss him off, he could just freeze up until Glenn went away, or maybe he might enjoy it. Either way, Glenn didn't want to do anything that could cause a rift between them.

It was the seventh time that it happened, that Glenn asked what was up. He had been standing with Hershel, discussing run trips and what was a priority and what wasn't, when Daryl caught him off guard and pulled him into a hug. Hershel gave them a soft smile, before carrying on with the conversation, Daryl piping in his opinion every so often. As if this was all normal. Just your average Tuesday. Was it Tuesday? Glenn was losing track.

Once Hershel had left, Glenn turned around and gave Daryl a confused look. "What's been going on? Not to say I don't enjoy it but... it's so unlike you."

Daryl's brow furrowed and he crossed his arms defensively. Glenn immediately felt guilty. There it was, his security blanket. The brick wall he threw up in front of himself when things got uncomfortable. Glenn hadn't had that wall thrown at him in a long time.

"I can stop if ya want me to," Daryl muttered, seemingly bitter and unhappy.

Glenn's heart ached and he shook his head softly. "Please don't do this to me," he whispered. "If you don't have a reason, and your just doing this because you want to, and I hope that's the case, then just say so. Don't make this a thing."

The older man didn't respond, only narrowed his eyes slightly, as if looking straight into Glenn's soul. It made Glenn squirm. He didn't like feeling as if he and Daryl went back three years, when Daryl didn't trust Glenn.

"I'm sorry," Glenn said quickly, his voice cracking. "You don't have to say anything. I shouldn't have asked. I'm going on a run. I'll see you later."

After quickly pecking Daryl on the cheek, Glenn fled in the direction of their cell. Pulling his backpack out from under the bed, Glenn began checking the contents of it. Flashlight with spare batteries, extra ammo, rope, beef jerky... he'd need to-

Glenn jumped ten feet in the air, startled out of his deep thought by someone, Daryl, wrapping his arms around him. "Jesus, Daryl," Glenn laughed breathlessly. "You scared the shit outta me."

"I promised ya," the redneck mumbled, burying his face in Glenn's shoulder.

Sighing and relaxing into Daryl's arms, Glenn murmured, "Promised me what?"

"That I would never let you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hugging
> 
> Last chapter's ending sucked. I'll let y'all know when it's rewritten.


	10. Worry Lines

Even though the sun had long since risen, it was still dark and, dare Glenn say, dreary in he and Daryl's cell. Despite them being safe and protected inside of the prison, Glenn would have preferred that they lived somewhere sunnier or happier. Perhaps he was being melodramatic, but in a world full of death and despair, Glenn wanted to wake up to the sun shining and birds chirping. Call him crazy.

There was one thing that made it worth waking up early. Glenn admired Daryl's sleeping face, tracing mindless patterns on the man's hip bone. It always amazed Glenn, when Daryl was sleeping, how at ease he seamed. During the day, Daryl always seemed on edge and tense.

All of his stress and worry lines melted away, and he almost seemed at peace. Glenn couldn't help but wonder the last time he looked like that when he was awake. Was he a teenager? A child? A toddler? Just the thought made Glenn disgusted with the world. A child shouldn't have to grow up like that.

Glenn wondered that maybe, in a parallel universe, the world never went to hell. That they managed to get through their problems with Merle, and Glenn got over his need for his dad's approval. Maybe Glenn got through college and got his dream job so he wasn't living off piss poor pay. In that world, Daryl got the promotion at the garage he always wanted. They were happy, and maybe Daryl always looked how he did when he was sleeping.

The thought made his heart ache, what could have been. Needless to say, they would never have met the mix matched family they have now, but would it have been worth it? Glenn would certainly like to live in a world where he didn't fear for his life again. He would take he and Daryl's shitty apartment and life they took for granted any day.

"Yer starin' at me, " Daryl suddenly murmured sleepily.

Glenn jumped a little bit, startled from his thoughts. He gave Daryl a lop sided grin as the older man opened his eyes. "Sorry," he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Daryl's lips.

Daryl yawned quietly, before pulling Glenn into a hug. "Wasn't complainin'," he said, kissing the top of Glenn's head.

A cheeky grin grew on Glenn's face. "Good, because I wasn't planning on stopping."

Glenn felt Daryl shake in silent laughter. "Wouldn't have it any other way," managed to get out around gleeful snickers.

That day, Glenn Rhee (Dixon? He didn't really know.) vowed to make sure Daryl's voice always sounded like that. Maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow. Or next week. Or next year, but he knew, one day, Daryl would always sound like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Watching the other sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my alternative to NaNoWriMo. It's a 30 day challenge I found online, and I wanted to give it a shot.
> 
> Prompt 1: Getting lost somewhere


End file.
